


Winged Wizards

by allisonPTXo3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Maximum Ride - James Patterson
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Harry Potter- duration of Book 3 (the Prisoner of Azkaban), Hogwarts, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7130756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonPTXo3/pseuds/allisonPTXo3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MAX + CO. GO TO HOGWARTS-</p><p>When Nudge spots Hogwarts as the Flock is flying by, Max decides to stay- for the night, at least. When they find out that it's a school- for MAGIC of all things- will they stay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm WHERE?

**Author's Note:**

> I changed the Flock's ages a bit so that Iggy, Fang, and Max are in 3rd year, and Gazzy is 10, Angel 7. 
> 
> This is my first work, so please try to be forgiving if I make a mistake. Oh- and in some scenes the dialogue is almost exactly the same as the book, but with Max's thoughts and a change of tense. Sorry if the characters don't sound like they would in the book, after all Fan Fiction is just a large what if. Feel free to comment. Ummm... yeah! Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Flock arrives at Hogwarts, is sorted, and I'll let you find out what comes next!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this fan fiction Max and everyone have all of their skills that ever develope, but only know what they do in book 1. As said in the summary, I tweaked their ages, also. Enjoy, and remember to please comment!

We had been flying for over five hours, but I knew that we had to rest soon. Nudge had been complaining for the last two. We had all liked that house, but when something suspicious happens, as it always does, you run as hard and as fast as you can. Unless you can handle it. And we usually can, but this time they came for Angel. Our sweet little winged six-year old. And yeah. I’m not kidding. Everyone got away- excluding a few minor scratches and bruising- but now they knew where we were staying, so we had to move.

“Max?” I hear.

“Nudge, for the last time, we can’t stop yet. If you’re hungry, here’s a granola bar.” I start to rummage around in my backpack.

“Okay, thanks, but- that’s not it. What’s that?” Her tan arm points below us to something. What it is, I don’t know. We all have raptor vision, but the whole ground below us is covered in dark storm clouds. Looking closely, I notice that there is a knobby shape hidden inside.

“No idea, sweetie. Alright, let’s take a quick look. If it’s good, we’ll spend the night.”

“Hey, look! A UFO!” Gazzy shouts, as if saying it for the 50th time will make us believe it.

“Gasser, with our luck it’s full of Erasers. Oh wait- there isn’t one.” Iggy says sarcastically, creepily turning his head towards the Gasman. Why is that creepy? Iggy is blind.

I tuck in my wings and let myself plummet, forcing the rest of the Flock to move out of my way- or else. Behind me, I hear the Gasman shrieking ‘Geronimo!’ as he follows my lead. Oh yeah- did I mention that we have wings? Yeah. Illegal lab escapees- you’ve probably heard it all before.  
Once I get through the watery clouds, I’m rewarded with pelting rain and lightning. This isn’t good- and it’s even worse when I hear Angel’s oof of pain and a sharp crack when something hits her- have the Erasers found us? But there isn’t any other sounds, except her sobs. That was definitely the sound of a broken bone.

I turn to fly up to them, and am rewarded with a mouth full of rain. Shielding my eyes, I see that Fang has caught her. Alright- we’re landing.

I turn and see the vague outline of a- is that a castle? Yes, a castle. Pointing to Fang, I head towards it.

As I get closer and closer to the ground, I start to notice colored figures chasing after basketball-like objects. It looks like some sort of game. And are those- broomsticks? I shake my head, and decide to figure it out later. But an icy cold feeling starts to close around my heart. There isn’t anything to be worried about, but I start hyperventilating. As my feet near the ground, I see a hooded figure come towards me. The feeling tightens, and I get into my fighting stance. But suddenly there is all this mist. I feel lightheaded, and suddenly I hear snarling, children screaming and crying. Everything is surreal. Run! I silently tell the children. But I lose all of my strength, and I’m cold. So cold…

I vaguely feel my legs hit the ground and then collapse, and my wings automatically fold against my back. I can’t feel anything anymore, the mist has consumed it… but the last thing that I see before I can’t anymore is a gross, moist, scaly hand of creepiness pushing its way out from under the tattered gray cloth that makes up the cloak. And then I’m so cold- the children have started to scream- I’m freaking out, my eyes roll up in the back of my head- and everything fades until there is nothing but mist.

* * *

 

“Maximum!”

“What happened to Max?”

“Excuse me!”

Blearily, I open my eyes. Covered in mud and soaking wet, I try to sit up.

“I’m okay…” well, I think I am. Or not. As soon as I speak, I remember what happened. A new wave of coldness hits me, and I grimace. Am I about to expire? Back at the lab, experiments (aka us) would have expiration dates. The Flock and I are the oldest specimens, so maybe we don’t have them. Or maybe our time is just about to be up. My time.

“No, you’re not. Nudge, you and Gazzy carry Max and follow this dude. I’ve got Angel.”

“Um… sorry to interrupt, but, uh, do you need help?”

Looking up, I see a pale kid clumsily walking my own little huddle of the Flock. Standing up quickly, I cleverly say, “Yeah, actually. Can you show us to the leader of this place?”

“Uh, sure. But first you should see the nurse. Madame Pomfrey will know what to do. Follow me.” He leads us through these giant doors- like, 15 feet tall. What kind of place has that? And once we’re inside- hoo, boy. There are giant stone walls, and get this- the paintings on them? They move. Some of them called out to us as we walked. ‘Oh, dear me!’ ‘Are you alright?’ ‘Come back and fight, you rascal scallions!’ ‘I will inform Madame Pomfrey.’

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Neville. You?”

“Max- I mean-“ I shut my trap. That’s me, always thinking about what I’m saying.

“Yeah.” Eager to change the subject, I ask, “Angel, how are you doing?”

“I’m alright, Max. I can handle it.” Angel’s sweet voice is strained. The poor kid- she’s been through way too much in just 6 years. Her brother Gazzy, too.

“Why were you outside, anyway? Enjoying the weather?” I narrow my eyes at Neville, looking as intimidating as possible, considered that my legs are too weak to lift myself up.

“I left Trevor in Greenhouse 1. My gran says I can’t do anything without forgetting something.”

Oh. Could this kid actually be what he seems? I guess so.

Once we get to the ‘infirmary’ as Neville says, and Madame Pomfrey has sat Angel and me down, I start dreading the questions that always come.  
But to my surprise, all that this Pomfrey lady has done is given me a large hunk of milk chocolate. After I make her taste test it, just to make sure that it isn’t poisoned, I dig in. Surprisingly, a feeling of warmth spreads to my stomach, instantly making me feel better.

Lying back onto my cot, I look around the room. It’s giant. There must be 30 beds along one wall! There are large beige windows that display a rainy courtyard, possible escape routes. A high ceiling, good for flying. Well-lit. To my left, a pale black-haired boy with a scar on his forehead is unconscious. It is such a weird scar, too. Like a lightning bolt.

Suddenly he turns and looks at me. His eyes are bright green. Creepy.

“Hullo,” he says, “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new?”

“Uh, no. I don’t go here. We’re just stopping by.”

He wrinkles his brow. “You’re a Muggle?”

“What’s a Muggle?”

“A non-magic person.”

“Ha, funny.” Not. He had better be joking.

“So, what’s wrong with you?” he asks. I crack up. My flock cracks up. The green-eyed boy has no idea how funny that is.

“There was this cloaked thing, and everything kinda went cold, and I passed out.” I’m not gonna mention the screaming that I heard.

“Hey, me too! Except I was playing Quidditch when it happened, so I kind of fell a hundred feet.”

Okay, now I’m just feeling stupid. What if he isn’t joking? If magic is real? What is this place- some sort of hospital?

“What is this place? And what’s Quidditch?” Nudge asks. Frankly, I’m surprised she kept quiet this long. That girl has quite a motormouth.

“You really are a Muggle, aren’t you? But- no. Hermione is always telling me- Muggles see Hogwarts as an old dump. So what are they?” He mutters the last part to himself.

Shaking his head, he visibly shrugs it off. "Well, I'm Harry."

I'm about to reply with some fancy fake name when I turn my attention to Angel. The poor kid- she must have at least broken a rib. Uh-oh. If Madame Pomfrey sees Angel’s wings, we are in deep doo-doo.

  
“Here, dear,” she says to Angel as she takes a stick out of her apron and starts waving it around, “Let me just see where it’s broken- ah. Fractured shoulder blade.” She starts to twirl the stick, and I notice that it has intricate designs carved onto it. After twirling it for a while, she stops and frowns.

“That is too strange! That should have set it for the night!” Without pausing, she gently yanks off Angel’s raincoat and windbreaker, as well as two sweaters, until she is wearing just a shirt over a tank top. Then she takes the stick thing (wand?) and uses it to cut off the fabric around where the bone broken. This is bad. If she is too nosy, she’ll notice the wings!

Too late.

Madame Pomfrey peers curiously at Angel’s back, noticing the small downy feathers that only just developed last year poking out over the collar. Frowning, she takes off the shirt. Underneath, Angel’s pure white wings unfold a little.

“Oh, my!” She gasps. I notice that Harry is staring openly at Angel’s wings. His round glasses are crooked. Angel puts on her layers of sweaters and stands up- as best she can with a fractured shoulder blade- to look Madame Pomfrey straight in the eyes.

“It’s fine. You can forget about my wings now.” She says in her sweet little girl voice. Then Angel turns to Harry, who quickly says, “I won’t tell! I think it’s amazing.” But Angel still says, “You can forget, too.” and Harry blinks hard, lies down, and falls back asleep. Oh yeah- did I forget to mention that we have other abilities? Angel here can fly, read minds, and sometimes, like now, bend them.

Madame Pomfrey blinks, hard. She smiles, wings forgotten.

“Well, since the spell didn’t work, I’ll set the bones and you can stay here until your shoulder heals. The rest you, shoo!”

“No.” Fang, also known as Mr. Silent, speaks up. “We aren’t leaving her.”

“Mr.—?”- Fang swallows, he doesn’t have a last name, I’m the only one of us that does- “Sir, these patients need rest! You must leave, or I shall call the headmaster!”

“No!” We don’t abandon each other. For anything. Not since some of our own parents sold us to the school. Like, really? Who does that? So, no. We never abandon each other. Especially if someone wants us to. And we don’t know this place, so where would we go, anyway?

A strange thing starts to happen. As Fang gets madder and madder, the air starts to taste like when Gazzy and Iggy are making a bomb, kind of electric. We hear a loud bang! and all of the lights go out. In the building. Out in the corridor, it’s pitch black, except where students have candles. Or wait- I think as peer closer- are those wands?

I abruptly sit back down on my bed.

A strict looking lady in a magenta dress-robe thing with her graying hair pinned in a tight bun strides into the room. Madame Pomfrey stands up and says, “Professor McGonagall, how may I help you?”

The Professor gives a slight bow and turns to face my Flock.

“Yes- you children do not attend this school, correct?” We nod.

“I have been informed that the child called ‘Fang’ has conducted unauthorized magic. This violates the the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Fortunately, the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is prepared to set aside the matter, since it is inside the school grounds, as long as you agree to attend here.

“We believe that all of you possess very powerful magic. In fact, we have been trying to recruit you for two years, but the owls could never find you. I understand that two of you are too young to attend, but we are willing to apprentice you to one of the teachers if the rest of you stay and learn. Maximum, Fang, and Iggy: You three shall be in 3rd year, as you are all 13 years of age. Nudge, you are in 1st year, so you will need a bit of tutoring to catch you up, but your IQ is also higher than average, so I don’t expect you to need much.”

“3rd years: you have very high IQs, but almost no education. Given your… situation- I ask that you attend normal 3rd year classes, but on weekends and during winter and spring break you have tutoring.” As she speaks, the Flock huddles as we discuss what to do.

Seeing our horrified looks, the Professor adds, “Yes, we are aware of the wings. We shall not tell anyone, but you may if you deem the person worthy.”

Our horrified looks only increase.

Gazzy, Nudge and Angel really want to stay. Iggy and Fang are hesitant. I'm personally against it, until my Voice (you mean you don't have one? You can get 'em for 5 bucks) adds, ' _The School isn't aware that you are here. They won't interfere with magic.'_ That changes my decision. We eventually decide that if there is anything fishy or potentially dangerous we can just fly out of those giant windows. We are officially Hogwarts students!

“We’ve decided. We will stay according to your conditions, but if we think something is suspicious, we’re out of here.” I say solemnly.

“Alright then, Maximum, Fang, Iggy, and Nudge please follow me to be sorted.” And we’re off. Whatever being sorted means.

In the headmaster’s office, McGonagall bows formally to this ancient dude with a white beard that goes down to his knees in what looks like a giant bathrobe, who pulls out an old stool and a dirty hat almost as ancient as him. The hat looks like a witch’s, pointy and everything. We just kind of stare at it from the doorway, until it opens up a wrinkle that kind of looks like a mouth and tells us to get a move on.

“Well? Which one of you wants to go first?” Nudge shakily walks over to the stool and sits down on it. The old dude puts the hat on her head while Fang, Iggy and I get ready to fight it if it tries to eat her brains or something. But nothing happens. We can vaguely hear it mumbling to itself, things like, ‘hmm… very brave’, ‘ambitious’, 'but loyal, oh yes very loyal' until it finally shouts, ‘HUFFLEPUFF!’. McGonagall plucks the hat off of her head and hands it to me. I sit myself down on the stool and determinedly lets the hat be placed on my head. I hope it doesn’t have lice.

“Don’t worry, dear. I don’t have lice.” says the hat into my ear. I hear Iggy snicker. Of course he uses his highly sensitive ears to pick up on embarrassing things. Who wouldn’t? I feel the most curious probing feeling as the hat looks through my memories. “Hmm… you are very brave, dear… and loyal, too… you wouldn’t leave your family for anything… but ambitious… you would do well in GRYFFINDOR!” McGonagall looks relieved for a second, (is that a smile I see?) then takes the hat and gives it to Iggy.

Next, Iggy is sorted. The hat mumbles for a lot longer than Nudge’s or mine was, and eventually decides on “RAVENCLAW!”

Fang sullenly picks his way over to the hat, yanking it onto his head with contained excitement. The hat frowns, if that is possible. Can a hat frown? Anyway, it mutters for a minute. It sounds like it’s arguing with Fang. “No, no… not with her” he is saying under his breath. I frown. Is he talking about me? Eventually the hat sighs. “SLYTHERIN.” it shouts glumly. Not that that's possible.

Now that the sorting is finished, we gather around McGonagall for instructions.

“Professor Snape is the head of Slytherin, so Fang, if there is anything that you need, you may ask him. I will assign you a student in your year to help you with classes. Iggy, Padma Patil will do splendidly, I think. Nudge, Professor Sprout will answer any questions that you have. And Maximum, please follow me to the Gryffindor common room, as I am the head of house.

The old dude has been sitting behind the desk for all of this, but when she is finished talking, he stands up and calls a house elf, whatever that is. Instantly, there is a crack and a short child-like creature is standing there, wearing a rag dress and a sock as a hat.

“What do you need, Master Dumbledore?” It says in a squeaky little voice, bowing as deep as it can.

“Ah, yes. Please inform the Professors Flitwick and Snape that they will have a new student. Ah, transfers.” He says in an grumbly old and weathered voice.  
“Yes, sir!” The creature says, and the strangest thing happens- one second it’s there, then there is a loud ‘pop’ and it disappears! And that couldn’t happen, right? I mean, that’s almost as weird as giving children _WINGS!_

As soon as I'm sure that this creature is gone, I ask, "We're not splitting up."

The Dumbledore dude frowns. Or at least I think that he does, it's kinda hard to tell underneath all of the facial hair. "You will have the chance to see each other with every meal, though the different Houses sit separately. Along with the tutoring that you will be taking together, you will be able to see each other."

Well, alright then.

So, Professor McGonagall leads me through tons of hallways, this way and that, and all of the way there the portraits are muttering- about us, I think glumly. So much for the lie low plan. We can’t do anything without sticking out, not unless we try hard.

Eventually we stop in front of a massive painting of a massive lady in what looks like a pink toga.

“Password?” she asks in a high-pitched, wobbly voice.

“Cassiopeia.” Professor McGonagall says in a firm voice.

“Indeed.” Says the Fat Lady, and the whole portrait swings open, revealing a person-sized hole in the wall. Through it, there is another room. There are tons of banners on the walls, some with moving pictures of lions, and others with the word, ‘Gryffindor’ plastered on them. The theme for the room seems to be gold and red. All of the banners are, and looking closely at the students' robes I see it there, too, hidden among the black.

There is a fireplace with cozy-looking armchairs around it. A few kids in more robes sit in them, and turn to stare at us. I would too: everyone is wearing black and red robes, and here Nudge and I are in jeans and grungy sneakers. How very American of us.

“This is Maximum Ride,” Professor Mcgonagall gestures to me, “Please help her if she needs it.”

I cross my arms. I don't need help. At least, not yet. “Uh, just Max.” I say. I know that my name is irregular. I gave it to myself.

One of the redheads has a shiny badge on his chest and bright red hair. He is covered in freckles and looks about 15, two years older than me. He stands up fast, puffs out his chest, and sticks out his hand to shake.

I cross my arms tighter. Not feeling social at the moment!

“Hello. I’m Percy, the head boy. If you need any help, come to me.” He says in a pompous voice. Two other redheads, they look like identical twins, immediately start snickering.

“Yeah, head butthole.” One of them chuckles, then immediately stops as McGonagall shoots him a killer stare. “Weasley,” addressing the head boy, “Miss Granger will be a good partner for Max." she checks one of the large clocks. "I must be going. Until tomorrow!”

And with that, she turns on her heel and left.

A bushy-haired girl walks through the commons door. Immediately this 'Percy' rushes over to talk to her. She nods earnestly and says to me, “Hello, I’m Hermione Granger. This way is the girls’ dorms.” I follow her up a long staircase until we are at what looks like the top of the tower. There are, once again, large windows. They look like they can open, so that solves one of my problems about the year. Even if they can’t, I won’t need to be claustrophobic this year.

Anyway, there are smallish canopy beds with red (again) drapes. Hermione gestures to what must be mine, and I go and sit on it. There is a wooden trunk that opens when I touch it at the foot of the bed. Inside, I see:

  * A wand with interesting wild raspberry branches carved on it
  * A few of the robe things that everyone here wears, with a metal badge with (I'm guessing) the Gryffindor logo thing on it.
  * Red and gold striped scarves
  * Lots and lots of books
  * Parchment (‘cause we’re too cool for regular printer paper)
  * Quills ('cause we're in the medieval ages)
  * A nice leather satchel
  * A witch’s hat? Pointy, black, and everything
  * Black dress shoes
  * Black socks
  * A few gray sweaters
  * A few white shirts
  * to my utmost disgust, gray knee-length skirts
  * A leather pouch, and when I open it I see large gold coins, some smaller brown ones, and a lot of medium sized silver ones.



When I ask about them, Hermione looks alarmed.

“But you’re just like Harry was in our first year! Wow, were you raised by Muggles?” She says earnestly.

I smile wryly.

“My parents are a test tube and a beaker.” She assumes I’m joking.

“You’re not alone, don’t worry. My parents are Muggles, too, and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Okay, so… the large gold ones are called galleons. The silver ones are sickles, and the bronze ones are knuts. 17 Sickles in a Galleon, 29 Knuts in a Sickle, so that means there are 493 Knuts to a Galleon.”

“Aah… ‘kay.” I’ll have to ask Gazzy or Iggy to do the math for me in the future. None of the Flock ever learned all of that fancy schmancy stuff that the average middle schooler knows. You don’t usually need it when you’re on the run.

* * *

  
Iggy is lost in a blanket of sound- though he gets the general idea of where things are, but there are so many voices. After his so-called 'partner' introduced herself, she quickly rejoined her friends, where he can hear them laughing. So much for that. Finally, one voice in particular picks it's way through the crowd. It is very airy and doesn't seem to care whether other people hear them. It also seems to be talking to him.

“Hello, I’m Luna Lovegood. Did you know that you’re standing underneath a nest of wrackspurts?”

He is not sure whether to laugh or ignore her.

“It’s okay if if you think I’m strange, everyone does.” He smiles wryly. Little does she know.

“We’d better hurry, or else we’ll be late for lunch and there won’t be any good seats. This way is the common room.”

A small, smooth hand gently grabs his arm, steering him towards the direction of the sound.

Iggy smiles. Even though he hasn't talked, she seems to understand him. Or at least, part of him.

* * *

 

We head for ‘the Great Hall’, (which just sounds cheesy and not great at all, but I digress) for dinner. I want to sit with the Flock, but Hermione says that the different houses have to sit at their tables. Luckily, I have raptor vision, so I can pick out Fang broodingly sitting next to a dude with white-blonde hair that is slicked back. He is sneering, and I can tell immediately that he is a slimeball. Why Fang would sit with someone like that, I have no idea. I hope that he isn’t Fang’s “buddy”.

I’m just checking out the enormous ceiling- which is there but under a spell or something that makes it look like the real sky- when that old guy Professor Dumbledore stands up and taps his wand against a crystal goblet.

Immediately the Hall falls silent.

“Before we feast tonight I would like to make two short announcements. One: Professor Filch has requested again that students return their quills if borrowed, as he has to purchase more.

“Two: as you may have noticed, we have four new students: Misses Maximum of Gryffindor,” he pauses for applause, “Mister Iggy of Ravenclaw,” more applause, “Miss Nudge of Hufflepuff... and Mister Fang of Slytherin.” less applause, except from the Slytherin table clad in green. They seem to be the meanest of the lot. I make a mental note of it.

“Please welcome them. And now- the moment you have all been waiting for- let the feast begin!”

The empty gold plates, gold goblets, etc. have all been filled with delicious food. Unfortunately, I can’t see even a hamburger on any of the tasty plates. I guess since we’re in Europe, we’re still gonna eat traditional European food.

Looking across the Gryffindor table to where the Hufflepuffs are seated, I see that Nudge has already made some friends. She is twirling a sausage on a fork enthusiastically as she talks. So typical of her. If she isn't careful, she'll snag her poofy hair on it.

I check- Iggy seems happy enough, sitting next to a pale blonde girl at the Ravenclaw table.

Fang is as dark and mysterious as ever, sitting at the end of the Slytherin table in his black and green robes.

Angel and Gazzy get their own table, sitting slightly in front of the teachers’, in one of the corners. Everyone looks happy. Alright- now I can be! As I dig into a plate of what looks like ribs, yet another freckled redhead kid slides down next to Hermione, followed by that kid with the bright green eyes and the scar. Harry, he said.

As he sits down, people start to whisper amongst themselves. I lean back, interested. The Flock and I aren’t so weird after all compared to other people!

I closely listen to the whispers. ‘Is that Harry Potter?’ ‘Where?’ ‘Sitting with one of the new kids.’ Huh. Is he famous or something?

Once his plate is filled, Hermione says, “Ugh, Ron, can’t you eat just a little slower?”

“Noh. Ahm stahvin!’ he mumbles with his mouth bulging.

“Hm,” Hermione says, skeptical. Then, grossness forgotten, “So Harry, where were you? You missed Charms!” 

Harry stares at her as if she were a lunatic. “Um, just in the hospital wing! Remember, I fell 50 feet during the Quidditch game?”

“No, I know that. But Madam Pomfrey just mended you bones right away, didn’t she? It only takes 5 minutes.”

“Well, you know how she is.” Seeing the look on Hermione’s face, he hastily adds, “Well, I guess you haven’t. She always wants us to stay longer, just to be sure.” Turning to me, he says, “I don’t think that I’ve met you before. Are you one of the new students? I’m Harry Potter.”

“Uh, no. I’m Maximum Ride, but you can call me Max, and yeah, I’m new.” Using my delicate tact that I’m so known for, I add, “Are you famous or something?”

Nervously flattening down his bangs, Harry nods.

“What for?” I have to say, I’m curious. Is there modeling in the wizarding world?

“Um, when I was a baby You-Know-Who… uh… murdered my parents… and he tried to kill me, too, but for some reason he couldn’t. He left the scar on my forehead.”

“Oh.” Thinking about what he said, I add, “I don’t know who, though. Who is he?” Yet another reason that I don't fit in. Besides, you know, the _wings_.

The redhead called Ron leans in, swallowing the food as he does.

“You don’t know who He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is?”

“Uh, yeah.” Am I supposed to?

“His real name is- well, erm- go on Harry, you don’t mind saying it.” He mumbles.

“You-Know-Who’s real name was Voldemort, but don’t go saying that in public.” Harry says. I resist the urge to add that he just did.  
“What did he do?”

“Well, he was this evil wizard, and he killed all of these people-” Harry starts, but Hermione cuts him off.

“Honestly, it’s her first day here! Don’t you two go off scaring her. Remember how hard it was for us?” she reprimands.

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of pretending that I actually know the spells that we're learning. Potions class in particular was horrid. I sat in the back with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Unfortunately the teacher, the ever-greasy Professor Snape, loaths Harry and so the entire class asked him difficult questions. Of course Hermione knew the answers to all of them. We were learning something called the ' _Forgetfullness Potion'_. He didn't talk to me, just glared over his beaky nose.

* * *

 

Later that night, I wait in front of the ever-roaring common room fire until well past midnight, when I’m sure that everyone is asleep.

Once they are, I stealthily climb the staircase leading to the girl’s dormitories. It’s so peaceful, I can practically hear the crickets.

Praying that the hinges aren’t rusty/squeaky, I slowly unlatch the window. Sitting down on the sill, I dangle my legs in the cool night air. The moon is shining bright, enough for me to see every detail on the ground far below me. Still too dark for a human to see me, though.

With one motion I push myself off of the ledge and for a moment, I’m free-falling.

With the wind blowing my braid out of my face, it’s so dang peaceful that I smile. Then, I unfurl my wings, hard and fast.  
They catch the warm air, lifting me up with a big whoosh. Pushing them down, I start to rise. Aah, flying.

As I circle the castle, my raptor vision picks up movement inside one of the towers. Peering closer, I see that it is the infamous Snape. Greasy-haired and hook-nosed, he loves to terrorize the students… Neville especially. I am so intent watching him that I almost run into something- or, as I hear a high-pitched squeal- someone.

“Nudge?”

“Max? It’s so good to see you! I haven’t talked to you in ages, we’ve had so much homework!” ‘cause 5 hours is so long.

Making one of my famous split-second decisions, I choose to have a flock meeting. ‘ _Angel?_ ’ I think. This is where having a mind-reader in the flock is useful. And, soon enough, Gazzy, Angel, Iggy, and Fang have joined Nudge and me. We are such an odd sight that I start feeling paranoid. Anyone looking out of a window would see six lopsided winged shapes and think that Hogwarts is under attack or something.

We decide to perch on top of one of the towers. Once everyone is seated on the roof, I stand up and announce:

“Guys, I’ve actually been feeling really comfortable here, and I just wanted to check in with everyone. Have any of you seen anything suspicious lately?”  
I get a chorus of ‘no’s thus proving my point that the School does not know that we are at Hogwarts.

“So I think that we should stay here until we graduate with our years. At least until we feel like we should go.”

 _Good decision, Max. You are safe here._ Huh. The Voice hasn’t lied to me yet. Not that it speaks that often.

* * *

  
****** _The flock was so busy talking that they didn't notice the shadow watching them laugh on top of the towers.*****_

Harry’s scar prickled unexpectedly. He rubbed it, wincing slightly and trying not to fall off of the roof. Scooting back into the shadows, he wondered when he should tell Max.


	2. Mudblood/ Revealed at last (at least to Harry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the title says. Just two scenes, a little short, but more is coming! Other than that, find out yourself and read it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kinda short, but I feel like it's right. Please comment with any revisions! Enjoy!

The next day I have my first breakfast at Hogwarts. I’m about to finish my scrambled eggs when all of these _owls_ come flying it, each carrying in a parcel or package.

That bloke Neville who brought us in has a package from his granny. He forgot something again. He really wasn’t kidding!

And then I’m off to my first class- Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ooh, the dark arts. Sounds mysterious- I kid you not!

After following Harry, Hermione and Ron through moving staircases and hidden doors, we finally arrive in a dingy classroom, with a hassled-looking wizard (I assume) sitting at his desk. Once class starts, he introduces himself as Professor Lupin.

“Alright, class! I know we already tackled this, but today we are coming back to boggarts! In case some people forget, remember the _Riddikulus_ spell! Just think of something that makes it less scary and say it with your wand pointing at it, and the boggart should be forced to a less-than-intimidating position.

“As it happens, it turns out that there is a boggart in this very closet!” Which explains why the doorknob is shaking.

“Ready… set… here we go!” He cries, pointing his wand at the door as he does- it flies open, Ron steps forward, and suddenly there is a giant spider- no, tarantula- looming in the doorway. It hisses, but it’s too late- ‘ _Riddikulus_!’ Ron shouts, and suddenly the spider has pink polka-dots on it. Then Professor Lupin cries, ‘Seamus, your turn!’ and a boy with ash-blonde hair hurries up.

Instead of a spider, now there is a tall woman with floor-length black hair and a green-y skeleton like face. She opens her mouth, and the worst sound that I have EVER heard comes out of her mouth. And believe me, I’ve been practically tortured- no, scratch that- actually tortured by the white-coats while they were testing my hearing.

But then again, this is magic.

“A banshee!” Hermione whispers to me, seeing my confused look. Of course it is. But Seamus cries, ‘ _Riddikulus!_ ’ and it grabs its throat; it has lost it’s voice.

At this point, I’m pretty freaked out. But of course this ‘boggart’ thing comes to me.

I’ve been thinking about what my biggest fear is. Being locked up, back at the School? Losing my Flock? Erasers? But I’m confused- does this boggart thing still have the abilities of the thing it’s impersonating? Anyway, I get into fighting stance, ready for its snarling, snapping jaws… when I see a dementor. Immediately, the mist starts to fog up my vision, but I try and concentrate on my wand.

_‘Riddikulus!’_ I shout, but unfortunately I forgot to think of something funny for it to do. Which means that there is more and more fog, and then I can hear children screaming, like, for their lives- focus, Max. You can do this! I firmly tell myself. But I can’t. And for once in my life, I am helpless. Fortunately, the dementor turns towards Harry instead. Still fighting subconsciousness and hearing children begging, screaming, and fog dimming everything around me, I barely notice that the dementor hasn’t changed shape to Harry’s worst fear yet. And I don’t get the chance.

Lupin has shoved Harry aside and said the _Riddikulus_ spell. Immensely relieved, I gather my bearings and stand up again, anxiously regarding the glowing white orb floating above the class’s heads.

“And that’s it for today, I think! Ah, 5 points for everybody who participated, and have an amazing day! Max, please stay for a minute or two.”

Uh-oh. I get ready to fight. Is he an Eraser?

“... here’s some chocolate. It will help the cold.” Eying it, I slowly take a mouthful, mumble a muffled ‘thanks’, and hurry out to where my friends are waiting. It’s not milk chocolate, but it has done its job. I’m no longer shaking, at least.

 

1 WEEK LATER

“You passed out?” I hear a cruel voice say loudly. “Oi, Potter! There’s another one of you! God, if Hogwarts doesn’t start screening it’s students more closely we’ll have a whole school of morons!” Oh. It’s that kid with the slicked-back blonde hair that I saw in Slytherin. His two goons chuckle stupidly. How they got into Hogwarts, I’ll never know.

“Leave her alone!” Harry and Fang say in unison. Surprised, they stare at each other. Fang has that glint in his eyes that tells me he’s amused. I’m actually surprised by how similar the two of them are. Except for Harry’s scar, bright green eyes, and glasses, the two are exactly the same. Like, identical twins the same. Huh.

“Honestly, Malfoy, can’t you at least wait until lunch to make your accusations?” Hermione says scathingly.

I am about to make a sarcastic comment, when my mind goes blank. “I-uh… ”

“Save it, _mudblood_.” Malfoy spits.

It’s not an insult that I’m familiar with, but immediately Ron lunges towards him, and Harry and Fang have to hold the back of his robes to stop him.

“Wasn’t it enough for you to insult Hermione last year? You have to call Max one, too?” He snarls. Wow, my friends are loyal! How did that happen?

Now, Reader, let’s stop for a moment and survey this scene. This Malfoy dude looks like he’s ready to punch Ron, and his two goons are as well. Ron is trying to launch himself at Malfoy, and both Harry and Fang are grabbing the back of his robes to stop him. I am standing behind Ron with Hermione, warily ready to fight. The other students are bustling around us, trying not to be late to class.

Alright, press the ‘play’ button.

“Boys!” Professor McGonagall strides up, her robes billowing in the wake of her stride.

“A’right, break it up, you two!” Hagrid, one of the teachers, pushes the two apart with hands the size of trash cans. I have no idea how I missed him, but there you go.

“You should be ashamed of yourself! 15 points from Gryffindor!” McGonagall cries.

“But Professor-“ starts Ron

“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. Weasley. The fact is you cannot be fighting in this school. You’re lucky that you don’t have a detention.”

“But Professor- he called Max a name!” And what it means, I still don’t know.

McGonagall doesn’t seem to be relenting, but when she speaks again, her voice has softened.

“Off to class with you. You don’t want to be late.”

As soon as she leaves, I pull Harry to the side.

“What is a Mudblood?” I ask.

“It’s- well- it’s a really bad name for someone whose parents are Muggles. See, some wizards believe that if your parents are both magical, then you’re called a pureblood, and you’re superior to everyone else. Half bloods are when one parent is a witch or wizard, and one is a Muggle. None of it is true, of course.” He adds hastily.

“Oh. Thanks. But my parents aren’t Muggles.”

“Really?”

“Well, they’re not wizards either. So I guess that does make me a Mudblood.”

“What are they then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

OK, do I trust him enough to tell him? Harry has been an awesome friend. He has stood up for me when I am *as rarely as it happens* in trouble, and sticks up for me when I could use support. I don’t think he would tell anyone, and he isn’t old enough to be an Eraser. Erasers always look like in they’re 20s, and like male models. Harry is cute, actually really cute, but to young to be a threat.

I hesitate, then go for it:

“Can we go into an empty classroom or something? I have something important to tell you.”

Once we are there, I pull the shade over the door, then take off my jacket.

Harry follows me like a dog. “What are you doing? What do you want to tell me?”

Taking a deep breath does nothing, by the way. I still have that weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Okay, if I show you this, you have to promise not to tell anyone else. Even Hermione and Ron.”

“Okay…?” Harry agrees, confused. Of course, promises don’t mean anything. But it makes me feel better. Of all things, Harry is genuine.

Lost in the last split-second before I give away the Flock’s biggest secret, the only thing that helps me make my decision is when my Voice says, ‘You can trust him, Max.’

Alright- here goes. Rolling my shoulders and arching my back, I slowly extend my wings. 14 feet across and speckled with different shades of brown, they are milky white on the undersides and a glossy brown on the other. My muscles are so tired from keeping my wings pressed tight against my back, I practically gasp.

Looking at Harry, whose jaw has dropped open, I add, “So my parents aren’t magic or Muggle. They are a test tube and a beaker.”

After eying my wings for like 5 minutes, Harry finally says, “Wow. Those are… awesome. How did you get them?”

Instantly everything that Jeb- the only parental figure in my short life who had to go and die- ever taught the Flock and me surfaces, and I feel my face shut down. I’m fine with showing him my wings, but telling him my life story I will save for when I absolutely KNOW that I can trust him. I think I can. But still.

“It’s okay, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. They’re beautiful.” He says quietly.

Relief washes over me, and I smile.  

“It’s fine.”

“I-“ Harry starts, “I- um, well, I- er…” Puzzled, I frown and wait for him to complete his sentence. “Erm… I’ll- I’ll tell you later.” He mumbles.

Okaaaaaay? Obviously I’m not the only one with secrets.

“Can you fly with them?”

“Well, yeah.” I’m startled into saying.

“That is so cool. Do you fly every night?” He has regained his confidence, it seems. I’ve been trying to, but it’s pretty hard, what with 11 other people in the same room.

So in the past two months, I have only gone about three times.

“No, only rarely.”

He edges closer.

“You know, maybe Malfoy was right. We both have problems with Dementors. We should ask Professor Lupin to teach us a spell against them or something.”

“Good idea. Next time that we have Defense Against the Dark Arts, we should ask him.”

I check my watch. “Oh no, we’re going be late to Divination!”

We both burst out laughing. Divination is the phoniest of the phoniest.

Fang is going to kill me.

___________________________

 

_‘I should have told her. She would understand. So why can’t I?’_

He scuffed his feet on the roof tiles, watching as one of them fell over the edge and dropped 200 feet onto the frozen dirt. He shivered, feathers swaying in the wind. His glossy wings fluttered as they bent closer around him.

Soon. It would be soon.


	3. the Firebolt/Patronus Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

I wake up the next morning to silence. Oh yeah… it’s Christmas break! Since the Flock and I have nowhere to go, we’re staying here.

Pushing my bed-head hair out of my face, I look around, muscles tense and ready to run. But I stop freaking out when I see the endless wrappers in front of a few other people’s beds. Looking at my own, I see like 6 presents. Surprised, I pick up the nearest one.

Tearing open the wrapping paper, I look inside to see this spinning thing that looks like a top- you know, those toys that kids are always playing with in the movies- except that it is whistling slightly. Hidden amongst the wrappings, I find a scribbled note from Fang.

    _Max-_

_I thought that this would be a perfect Christmas present for you. It’s called a Sneakoscope, and it detects, like, evilness. Perfect for your paranoia!_

_Anyway, Merry Christmas._

_-Fang_

Well, whaddaya know- His Darkness actually remembered! Unlike me. Oops. But to my credit, the Flock has never has celebrated any holiday whatsoever- except for birthdays, but even then they are just when we feel like it’s been a year.

6 presents more than last year!

Sorting through the rest of them, I find a new quill from Hermione, a new pair of combat boots from Harry, a handmade card from Angel, and a hastily scrawled note from Ron- which just says that he couldn’t think of something to give me, and to have a Merry Christmas- and a bag of assorted wizard’s candy.

After trying- and failing- to rouse Hermione, I visit the boy’s dormitory to see what Harry and Ron got- and find them gawking over a broomstick.

“What’s the big deal?” I ask, confused.

“Max, this is a _firebolt_ ,” Ron says, “it’s lthe fastest broom in the world! It’s even played in professional Quidditch! I can’t believe that Harry got it. No tag or anything! You reckon it’s from a fan?”

“Woah, hold on there. What’s Quidditch?”

Ron looks even more awestruck, but Harry casts me a sympathetic glance.

“It’s a wizarding sport. Haven’t you heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“You should check it out sometime.” With that, Harry lifts up his hand and says, “UP!”. For a second I just stare at him, then realize that the broomstick has floated up into his hand.

“That is too cool.” I really need to get used to this whole magic thing.

“What else did you guys get? I got a few cards and some candy.”

“I got some nice Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans, a cool figurine, and… oh. One of my mum’s homemade sweaters.” Ron’s face turns red.

Just then, Hermione comes stomping up the stairs, holding the orange fluffball of doom that is called Crookshanks.

“Oh, _Harry!_ Who sent you _that?_ ”

“No idea,” says Harry. “There wasn’t a card or anything with it.”

Her face falls with the expression of a person with good intentions having to do something bad.

“What’s the matter with you?” says Ron in his usual churlish manner.

“I don’t know,” she says slowly, “but it’s a bit odd, isn’t it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn’t it?”

Ron sighs.

“It’s the best broom there is, Hermione.”

“So it must’ve been really expensive…”

“Probably cost more than all of the Slytherin’s stupid Nimbus Two Thousand and _One’s_ put together!” Ron says happily.

“Well… who’d send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they’d sent it?” Hermione says slowly.

“Who cares?” Ron says abruptly. “Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?”

But Hermione cuts him off. “I don’t think anyone should ride that broom just yet!” she says shrilly.

We stare at her.

“What d’you think Harry’s going to do with it- sweep the floor?”

“Hermione, what could be wrong with it? It’s a broom!” I add.

Before Hermione can say anything, her cat jumps out of her arms, right at Ron.”

“GET--HIM--OUT--OF--HERE!” Rom bellows as the despised cat rips his pajamas and Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers, tries to escape over his shoulder. Fortunately, Ron seizes Scabbers by the tail and tries to kick Crookshanks, but completely misses and hits one of the heavy wood trunks instead. Ron hops up and down, howling in pain but still sounding like a lovestruck goat. Not that I would know what that sounds like.

Crookshanks’ fur suddenly stands on end. A whistling similar to the one of my Sneakoscope is filling the room. Wait a minute- it’s exactly the sound of my Sneakoscope! But I left it in my dorm…

“I forgot about that!” Harry says as he bends down to pick it up. The Pocket Sneakoscope has become undone from a pair of socks and is spinning all on it’s own on the floor. “I never wear those socks if I can help it…”

Laughing, I stroll out of the room, hearing Ron distantly saying, “Can’t you shut that thing up?”

The rest of the morning is a blur- just the extra tutoring, and the Professor was right, we actually can learn, like, _really_ fast when we actually want to- and then it’s lunch.

I enter the Great Hall with my Flock surrounding me to see that Ron and Hermione are still arguing. But the greatest change is the tables- they have been relocated to the end of the room, leaving only one table in the middle. Aside from Hermione, Ron, and Harry, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick are seated, as well as that creepy mean dude Filch.

Realizing what McGonagall said at the beginning of the year in the hospital wing, I nudge Nudge (get it? I’m hilarious, I know) and untuck my wings a little- just so that the tips are showing.

She widens her eyes, remembering that the Hogwarts staff already know, and follows my lead. Soon enough, the entire Flock has their wings showing- Iggy’s just as blond as ever, Nudge’s tawny, Fang’s a deep black-blue, Angel’s like her namesake, Gazzy’s white but gray-streaked, and mine: creamy brown, with black streaks  on the primaries.

The teachers glance at our wings, but don’t say anything, however Ron and Hermione sit very still. Ron rubs his eyes, as if he is hallucinating. Harry is staring at the others, as if to say, ‘there are more of you?’

“You have- wings?” Ron finally gets out. “How is that possible?”

I shrug and sit down, helping myself to the food.

“Merry Christmas!” Dumbledore says as the others sit down. “As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables… sit down, sit down!”

Seeing as we are already sitting down, this only proves my theory that he is eccentric- at best.

“Crackers!” he says enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who takes it reluctantly and tugs the end. With a bang like a gunshot (unfortunately I know how that sounds) the cracker flies apart, revealing a giant pointy witch’s hat with- get this- a stuffed vulture on the top. Surprisingly, Ron, Hermione, and Harry stifle laughter. 

I mean, it's a funny-looking hat and all, but there is  _no way_ that it is that funny. Must be an inside joke from before we came.

Snape frowns and pushes it towards Dumbledore, who immediately swapped it for his wizard’s hat. Correction: must be an inside joke about  _Snape_. Then again, Snape frowns at everything.

“Dig in!” Dumbledore beams, as oblivious as ever.

I’m on my third helping when the doors burst open, revealing the deluded Professor Trelawney. She is wearing the weirdest green sequined dress for the occasion, which only makes her look more like a bug.

“Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!” that Dumbledore, he knows how to react to everything.

“I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster,” she says in her mistiest voice, “and to my utmost surprisement, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the prompting of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness…”

“Certainly, certainly,” Dumbledore’s eyes are twinkling. “Let me draw you up a chair--”

And he does-- a chair appears in mid air, hovers over a space between Professors Snape and McGonagall, then falls with a heavy thunk. Trelawney glides down as if on wheels and gracefully sits.

The dinner flies by, so it is around eight when we are finished. Stuffed to the gills (I'm not even kidding), the Flock and the Trio (as I’ve started calling them) head towards the dorms. We stop at a staircase, where we will disperse to our separate Houses.

“So you guys really have wings?” Hermione asks inquisitively

Gazzy, always eager to show off, takes a few steps, unfurls his 11 feet of wings, and jumps up to the top of the stairs. When he lands, he lets his wings stay completely extended.

Looking at my peers, I follow his lead, thinking that we might as well get this over with. One by one everyone else (with wings, that is) follows my lead.

“And that, folks, is it for the night! Oh, and don’t tell anyone, like not even your family about this.”

Hermione nods earnestly. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of it! I think that it’s amazing.”

Ron agrees, and Harry, of course, already knows. He nods silently.

* * *

 

I’m walking with Ron and Harry to dinner when we see Professor Lupin, who, for some reason, neither Harry nor I have asked about the lessons yet.

“Professor?” I say, “Harry and I were wondering, since we are both having trouble with dementors, could you teach us how to defend them? Or any tricks to stop them?”

“Well- sure.” The Professor says.  “Let me see… how about eight o’clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough… I’ll have to think carefully about how we’re going to do this… We can’t bring a real dementor into the castle to practice on…”

“Still looks ill, doesn’t he?” Ron says as we continue. “What d’you reckon’s the matter with him?”

I hear a loud and impatient ‘tut’ from behind us. Turning, I see that it’s Hermione, who has been sitting at the feet of one of he suits of armor that adorn the halls, repacking her bag, which is so full of books that I’m surprised that it hasn’t burst open yet.

“What are you tutting at us for?” Ron says angrily. He and Hermione love to quarrel, like the stereotypical old married couple.

“Nothing,” she says in a lofty voice, throwing her bag over her shoulder as she does.

“Yes, you were,” says Ron. “I said I wonder what’s wrong with Lupin, and you—“

“Well, isn’t it _obvious?_ ” Hermione says, with that smug look of superiority that I hate. This is a whole new side of her.

“If you don’t want to tell us, don’t!” Ron practically shouts.

“Fine, I won’t!” says Hermione haughtily, and she marches off.

They’re _perfect_ for each other!

* * *

 

The rest of the week comes and goes, until Thursday. I hustle over to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, then remember what Lupin said and run over to the History of Magic classroom.

Once I get there I see that Harry and Lupin are already there. Lupin is carrying a large packing case.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Another boggart,” says Lupin, taking off his cloak as he does. “I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you, so we’ll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we’re not using him; there’s a cupboard under my desk he’ll like.”

“Okay,” says Harry, and I nod my agreement.

“So…” Lupin takes out his wand and motions for us to do the same. “The spell that I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm.”

“How does it work?” Harry asks nervously.

“Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a patronus, “ says lupin, “which is a kind of anti-dementor—a a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor.”

Harry looks lost in his own thoughts, but I ask, “What does it look like?”

“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.”

“Well, how do you conjure it?” Harry asks.

“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”

I think on that one. Do I have very happy memories? I suppose, flying for the first time would be one. The delight on everyone’s faces… yeah, that will work.

“Right,” Harry says.

I try and remember the fluttering feeling in my stomach when my feet left the ground.

“The incantation is this—“ Lupin clears his throat. “ _Expecto patronum!”_

The room is filled with _“Expecto patronum!”_ muttered quietly under our breaths.

“Remember to concentrate hard on your happy memory!”

“Oh- right.” Harry says. Whoops.

Something whooshes suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looks like a wisp of silvery gas.

“Did you see that? Something happened!”

I think about how awesome that delicious moment of realization that I could _fly_ was, and shout ‘ _Expecto patronum!’_

A see-through vapor _wolf_ runs out of my wand. Taken aback, I stare at it. Why would I see a wolf when I have wings? Studying it, I see that it has silver streaks patterned on top of it’s gray fur. Panting, it prowls the classroom for a few seconds, then disappears.

Both Harry and Lupin stare at it.

“That’s brilliant, Max!” Harry says, then goes back to work. The next time that he tries, he conjures a bunch of fog that forms the shape of a deer or something, but it’s not very clear.

Lupin gives us both giant hunks of chocolate- which I’m not complaining about- and sends us on our war:

“Excellent work, both of you! Keep in mind, some fully trained wizards cannot produce a Patronus. Next Thursday we will continue.”

 As I head out of the classroom, following Harry, Lupin catches my arm.

“Max- is it true that you have wings?” In response I unfurl them a bit. To my surprise, Professor Lupin‘s face pales considerably.

“They’re still doing it.” he mutters. Then, taking a deep breath, he turns to me.

“Max. I was a product of the School, too.”

Woah. What mutant is he? Hold on, I’m about to find out.

Taking a deep breath, Lupin adds, “I was one of the very first Erasers.”

Hey, you in the back, the ones imagining a pink slab of rubber, you’re _dead wrong_ . Erasers are like werewolves, but 10 times _worse_ ; they can change into wolf-men at will. They are the school’s thugs. They track down the escapees of the lab, which would be _moi_.

Instinctively I raise my wings slightly in case I need to fly, cross my arms in front of my chest, and clench all of my muscles. I am so ready to blow this popsicle stand.

So of course I’m surprised when Lupin sits down heavily in one of the chairs. I notice how jaded his young face is. He’s too old now to be a proper Eraser. Is it possible that he was created before Erasers were given expiration dates? I guess so, if he’s telling the truth.

“When did you escape?” the question is out of my mouth before I can think it through.

Lupin thinks about it. “I think it was when I was… a small child, definitely. I don’t remember exactly. But I saw this rather strange man, and he changed into a wolf and brought me to this frightening place, where I stayed for a few months. I think… I think that they let me go. Purposely. Perhaps to see how I reacted with society... I am what you would call an Eraser.”

I knew it. I once again get ready to run. But Professor Lupin makes no move to fight or morph into wolf form. Hesitantly, I decide to stay.

He kneads his brow with one hand, looking slightly ashamed.

“Well, I just wanted to say… if the Erasers are coming to Hogwarts, you aren’t alone. I am on your side, and can alert the staff. They are prepared to protect any Hogwarts student.

“Also… are you planning on telling the student body about your wings? It could be useful.”

“Not anytime soon.” I cross my arms. “Besides, who’s asking?”

“Just me, Max.” There is an awkward moment of silence. I shift my weight repeatedly from foot to foot.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be going…” I make towards the door.

“One last thing- ah, the others believe that I am, ah, a werewolf. I would appreciate it if you let them continue believing that.” This whole conversation is weirding me out.

“Yeah, sure- no problem.” I scamper out the door. Who knew? The branches of the School reach out even to England! 

Saving the world is going to be harder than I thought.


End file.
